


time yet for a hundred indecisions, for visions and revisions

by jamesstruttingpotter



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, arguing olicity what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2099760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesstruttingpotter/pseuds/jamesstruttingpotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A copycat Arrow brings things to a head between Oliver and Felicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time yet for a hundred indecisions, for visions and revisions

**Author's Note:**

> idk what to tell you guys other than that I just have this thing for couples who argue. also trying out motifs because wow i need to grow up

"You had no right!" he roars, fist slamming into the steel tabletop. Felicity doesn’t even shudder.

"I had  _every_  right,” she counters, voice dangerously loud. “Partners, Oliver! That’s what you said, and that’s the promise I’m holding you to.”

He growls, gaze nearly incinerating the opposite wall, and Diggle takes this opportunity to hustle a gaping Roy out of the foundry. The metal door slams shut behind them, but the sound only thickens the silent tension between the two remaining members of Team Arrow.

Oliver is the first to break it again. “Do you know how close that arrow got to your heart?” he asks, glaring at the tight bandages that wrap around her shoulder. “Three inches lower and it would have clipped an artery. You would have  _bled to death,_ Felicity, all over the floor, and there wouldn’t have been a goddamn thing I could have done to stop it.”

She knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t resist. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t wearing heels when he kidnapped me,” she quips, glowering at him.

He tenses. He’s still wearing his disguise, mask and all, and she can see the hard line of his shoulders underneath the green leather. “Nothing about this situation is funny.”

She can’t disagree with him. Still, despite the fear that hasn’t left her veins since she was first snatched in front of Verdant, she is seething. From the looks of it, Oliver feels similarly, but this is one battle she won’t let him win.

_They had been tracking down an Arrow copycat over the past week, a hooded man who wore green and shot arrows but aimed for the wrong people: the mayor, the chief of police. Oliver had foiled those two assassination attempts weeks ago, and when no further movement had been made by the copycat, they assumed he’d faded away._

_Then, as Felicity got out of her car that night, rough leather clamped over her mouth, a syringe sliding into her arm._

_She woke up in an empty condo, the copycat seated in front of her. He was a few inches shorter than Oliver, with cropped brown hair and a nondescript face. She committed the small details to memory immediately, like the mole by his jaw and the shape of his nose._

_"Felicity Smoak," he said, playing languidly with her phone. She forwent an answer, instead choosing to check the strength of the ropes binding her, like Diggle taught her, and to mentally review the contents of her pockets. It looked like the man had taken all possible weapons out of her coat, leaving her with a stick of gum and a hair tie._

"You were unarmed," Oliver snaps, jolting her back to the present. "Vulnerable. I  _told_  you to run to where Diggle was waiting, and you deliberately disobeyed me.”

"Of course I did," she shouts, and he scoffs. "I’m not a child, I’m not going to blindly follow every order you give me!"

"You should when it’s for your safety!"

"And what about your safety?" Her shoulder throbs, the painkillers doing little more than clouding her mind. She shakes her head, noting his dismissive attitude. "Don’t you dare shrug off what happened tonight, Oliver Queen. If I hadn’t been there, that arrow would have - "

"It would have missed!" His voice, normally tight even in anger, is quickly spiraling out of control. "It would have missed, Felicity, and both of us would have walked away unharmed. But you, like an  _idiot_ , did exactly what that bastard expected you to do!” _  
_

_"You’d do anything for the Arrow," the copycat had mused, watching her._

_"I don’t even know the Arrow," she tried lamely, the excuse falling flat even on her own ears._

_"And he’d do anything for you," the man continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. "In fact, I’m sure he’s on his way here right now."_

_She was similarly confident in that assumption. He had left the QC offices before she had, but only after she promised to be twenty minutes behind him. Judging from the darkness of the room around her, a good hour or so had passed since that moment._

_"I’ve been watching your little team for a few weeks now," the impostor went on. "That’s why I’ve been so quiet, see. And I contemplated going after the boy they call Arsenal. Oh, the police chief told me all about your group once I started driving arrows through his limbs," he told her as a surprised expression flitted across her face. "He had no idea who the kid was though, under the mask, so I decided to let Arsenal live another day. But you, you the entire task force knows by name. You’re Lance’s contact. The pretty blonde techie-turned-assistant at Queen Consolidated."_

_"Oh, so you think I’m pretty?" Sara’s voice wouldn’t have shaken so much if she were in Felicity’s place, but given that fear usually made her freeze up, she was proud of herself for saying anything at all._

_The man seemed amused. “And spirited, apparently. Maybe you can come work for me after I shoot the Arrow down with his own weapon.” His face morphed, turned more serious. “Because I will. I’ll send an arrow straight through his heart.”_

_"I’m going to pass on that employment opportunity," she responded, ignoring the frisson of fear his words sent down her spine. "Not only because you seem like a total psycho, but also because the Arrow’s not going anywhere. Actually, I’d start thinking of a cool phrase to say as your last words if I were you."_

_Admittedly not the best one-liners._

_The copycat sneered. “You’ve seen my face, which means you’re a liability. If you don’t come work for me, then I suppose I’ll just have to kill you.” The thrum of panic in her stomach turned into full-fledged panic as he put down her phone and picked up his bow, notching an arrow with ease. He drew the string, taking careful aim at her chest. Felicity couldn’t breathe, ice-cold fear holding her lungs captive as it froze over her muscles._

_The man suddenly stilled, as if reconsidering. “Or maybe you’ll take care of that for me by diving in front of my arrow as it aims for your partner’s heart.” He nodded, seemingly lost in thought. “Yes, that sounds better. Much more poetic. And he’ll get to watch it happen before I kill him too.”_

_"I don’t think so," a new voice growled from the upstairs loft, another bow silhouetted by an open window. "Drop the weapon completely and move away from the woman. One wrong move, and an arrow goes straight to your throat."_

_“_ There’s a reason he thought I would do that,” Felicity says, voice hard. “He knew I wouldn’t take that risk, the chance that the arrow would hit its mark.”

_Oliver came down the stairs as his copycat backed away, smirking. An arrowhead quickly sawed through her restraints and she scrambled up from her seat, rubbing her wrists. He scanned her, searching for any sign of abuse, and she shook her head minutely in response. “Diggle’s outside. Go,” Oliver ordered tersely, voice rough even under the modulator. She hesitated._

"You should know better than that," he bites out. 

_In the few seconds it took to have that exchange, the impostor aimed and shot, the arrow curving through the air and heading toward them._

_Felicity, realizing a split second before Oliver, pushed him out of the way._

"Sorry for giving a damn, then," she finally says, pushing herself off the med table. 

His shoulders tense. He’s still not looking at her. “Felicity…”

"No. You don’t get to yell at me for caring about you and then get all sad when I decide to push you away!" Her volume drastically increases with every word until she’s yelling again, clearly unleashing her pent up frustrations. "You can’t have it both ways, Oliver! Either I’m your partner or your subordinate; either you trust me or you don’t. Right now, I can’t tell what the hell is going on in your mind, and it looks like you have no clue either. This isn’t  _fair_  to me, and I won’t be a part of your mood swings anymore!”

"You think this is fair for me?" he asks, voice reverberating around the foundry. "I can’t even - _everything_  I do puts a bullseye on your back, and tonight only proved how easy it was to get to me through you. You’re my partner, but to other people you’re a means to an end, just because they’ve figured out I care about you. I can’t let you - “

“ _Let_  me?” Felicity interrupts, incredulous. “You don’t  _let_  me do anything! I don’t need your permission to do a damn thing, and if that’s the way you think - “

Oliver swears loudly. “I can’t  _do this,_  alright?”

"No one fucking  _asked you to._ ”

They’re both breathing heavily. Felicity’s shoulder is heavy with pain. Oliver’s expression is harsh. “He got the disguise right, you know,” he says, glaring at the ground. “The hood, the vest, the pants. Even the bow was pretty similar. When I came in through the window, he really did look like me. And his arrow was pointing straight at you.” His laugh is bitter. “I think that’s called a metaphor.”

She looks sharply at him. “Don’t, Oliver. Don’t give me this ‘I’m bad for you’ spiel again. You did it after Russia, and to be honest, I think I’m still pissed about it.”

"What else could it be?" He starts to pace the length of her desk. "You’re an EA against your will because I need a cover story. You’re down here every night from when your QC job ends til when the sun comes up because I need backup. You’ve had bombs strapped around your neck and guns held to your temple and Slade’s sword against your throat, and dammit Felicity, this is just another mistake that never should have happened to you. If I can’t protect you now, how the hell am I supposed to do it if I care for you the way I - the way you think I can?"

She stares at him. “By not half-assing it.” She holds her head high, scraping together what courage she still has left. He has stilled again, his face half-turned toward her. “You think caring for people hurts your ability to be the Arrow. I argue the opposite. John fights three times as hard as he used to now that he has Lyla and the baby. Roy throws himself into every battle because he knows Thea’s waiting on the other side. Even Slade, as twisted as he was, did everything in the name of Shado, the woman he loved.” She stumbles a little on that last word but forges onward. “You’re doing yourself a disservice by not allowing yourself to feel. And, if for some miracle you decide to take your head out of your ass, you’ll realize that you’re not just restraining yourself: you’re hurting me. So really, all things considered, if this remains status quo, then you’re the one who’s hurting me the most, all in an effort to  _keep_  from hurting me. You know? You just - “

In three strides he’s standing in front of her, mouth warm against hers as his hand cups her jaw. She lets out a startled “eep,” eyelids fluttering shut.

"I’m sorry," he says, several moments (days? years?) later, breaking away from her. 

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," she says.

His eyes meet her own, and she reaches up to take off his mask.


End file.
